


I Think I'm Kissing Louis Tonight

by aclosetlarryshipper



Series: I Think I'm Kissing Louis Tonight- The Series [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:33:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aclosetlarryshipper/pseuds/aclosetlarryshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry can't believe Louis picked him over everyone, and Louis really wants to kiss Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think I'm Kissing Louis Tonight

“I think I’m kissing Louis tonight,” Harry can’t help gushing to Niall. They're sitting on the bleachers, huddled together while sharing a hot chocolate and watching Louis’ football game. Harry has one pompom grasped in his hand (he isn’t sure who stole the other one), and he waves it whenever Louis does something remotely impressive.

Harry secretly loves when Louis refers to him as his little cheerleader.

“He’s bad news, Harry. I don’t think you should,” Niall warns him, his eyes worried and widened. Harry sighs, leaning forward onto his knees and rolling his eyes. He appreciates Niall’s concern, but he doesn’t know Louis like he does.

Niall only thinks Louis is bad news because he's new. He transferred from Doncaster at the beginning of the year, two grades ahead the both of them. He's eighteen, and drives a car that's equal parts loud and fast. The teachers like to reprimand him for it, but Harry knows he's a softie underneath the leather jacket he wears sometimes.

And sometimes he lets Harry wear it if he seems cold. He's sweet.

“He hangs out with Zayn. Nobody that hangs out with Zayn is someone I want my best friend to get involved with,” Niall frowns.

Niall is so naïve, honestly. They're both sixteen, and not kids anymore. Harry can take care of himself, and make his own decisions.

Harry links his arm through Niall’s, hoping to get him to see the light. “But we’re already involved. He told me last week he really likes me, and I really like him, too.” Harry feels giddy thinking about it, remembering how in the beginning of the year, all of the girls in Louis’ year were all over him, twirling their hair and dropping their books in front of him to get his attention. Harry can’t believe Louis picked him out of everyone, and he's never wanted to kiss anyone more than Louis.

“And then last night he texted me and asked me if I’ve ever kissed a boy. I told him I’ve never kissed _anyone_ , and he told me it’s easy, just like the movies,” Harry smiles, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through his body. “I’m actually really nervous, though,” he adds as an afterthought, biting his lip as the final whistle blows, signaling the end of the game.

“What if I’m horrible?” Harry asks Niall, fingers rushing up to touch his lips. “Oh God, what if my breath stinks, do you have any gum? Should I have brought my Chapstick?” Harry asks, panic now flooding through his veins. He was too excited about thinking about it happening that he forgot to come to the game prepared, or search through “How to Kiss” videos on Youtube.

“Woah, Harry, calm down. I just bought some gum, hold on,” Niall instructs, rummaging through his bag. “You can have it,” Niall smiles, pinching Harry’s cheek.

“But Niall, I just remembered I don’t know how to kiss!” Harry croaks, his mouth suddenly very dry. “Which means I’m probably going to suck at it! And what if Louis doesn’t want me anymore when he realizes I’m not good at it?”

“Mate, kissing is easy. You just go with it. It comes naturally,” Niall reassures, pulling Harry to his feet to join the crowd making their way down the bleachers. Harry's still nervous, clutching Niall’s shoulder as they descend, worried he might slip otherwise because his thoughts are far away from high school football games.

Until he sees Louis huddled with his team, still on the field, the bright lights making his face stand out. Maybe Harry has tunnel vision, but Louis seems to glow brighter than everyone else.

Harry clutches the chain-link fence between his fingers, as close to the field as non-athletes are allowed to stand. “I’m guessing you don’t need a ride home, then?” Niall asks from beside him, his nose a little red from the cold. Harry grins, hardly able to take his eyes away from Louis’ figure, shaking his head slightly so Niall gets the message.

“Don’t let him slip you any tongue, okay? I mean, unless you want him to. But don’t let him use tongue for very long. First kisses should be cute and simple,” Niall explains, before wishing Harry luck and ruffling his hair, shouting over his shoulder to text him how it was after.

Harry’s heart is racing, hoping Louis will actually be able to take him home because he didn't actually ask beforehand. He's done it for every other game Harry has been to, and he knows Louis wants to kiss him, so he thinks it's pretty likely.

The team breaks suddenly, players running off in separate directions to meet their families or girlfriends before jogging to the lockers to shower. Harry’s eyes are glued to Louis, though, the crowd around him blurring because nobody can hold his interest like Louis does.

He can tell the moment Louis’ eyes fall on him, a smile curving at the corner of his mouth. Harry bites his lip and moves his eyes to the floor, suddenly shy.

He hears the fake grass crunching under a pair of cleats before he feels the finger on his chin. “Hey,” Louis coaxes, pulling Harry’s face up so he can look into his eyes.

And the blue Harry is staring into feels like a punch to the stomach in the best way, knocking the wind out of him like a rollercoaster instead of a bad grade on a test he studied for all night.

He thinks maybe he would have collapsed right then and there if it weren’t for Louis’ finger on his chin, the touch sending little shocks of warmth from his face to the rest of his body.

“Do you need a ride home?” Louis asks, moving his bag from his left shoulder to his right, removing his finger and making Harry frown because he's not getting his kiss yet.

“Yes, please,” Harry answers, remembering his manners. 

Louis smiles, and his eyelashes cast ridiculously long shadows along his cheeks, and Harry swears he's the most beautiful person ever created.

“I’ll just shower and be right back, then? Want to go to the park before I drop you off?” he asks. Normally Harry would tell him it's a school night and he has homework due the next day, so he has to get back home, but he figures geometry can wait. Geometry is every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but first kisses are only once.

Harry nods enthusiastically, accidentally messing with the crick in his neck he feels sometimes. He pulls a pained face, moving his hand to rub it out, but Louis laughs and calls him cute before jogging away, so it doesn’t hurt too much.

By the time football players begin to pour from the locker room, Harry has worried himself into a panicked mess. What if he's defective and kissing doesn’t come naturally like Niall said? What if Louis is suddenly put off by his lack of experience? What if Louis forgets he needs a ride home and he has to call his older sister to pick him up?

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Louis suddenly whispers from behind him, before moving to the left so he can grab Harry’s hand without his bag awkwardly hanging between them. Louis hasn’t ever held his hand except for once the week before when they were watching a scary movie, so he's surprised but happy. His fingers are warm and slightly calloused, and Harry thinks they probably go well with his hands that are soft, and only have one callous because of how he holds his pencil during class.

“You played really well today,” Harry tells him, only feeling a tiny bit nervous.

“Did you wave your pompom?” Louis asks, squeezing Harry’s hand a little as they make their way out the gate. Harry blushes and nods, embarrassed because his hand is starting to sweat, even though it's so cold.

They break apart once they reach Louis’ car so he can search through his bag and find the keys, shivering because it's windier without the confines of the stadium.

Once they're both settled in, Louis blasts the heater, revs his engine and shoots off. Harry’s heart speeds up as the car does, Louis’ presence like Harry’s own personal gas pedal.

Harry stares out the window, not sure what to do with his hands. He lays one at his side, thinking if Louis wants to hold his hand again it will make things easier. He takes in the sight of the crowd still outside, the figures blurring together to create one multicolored blob before Louis is on the street, away from the judgmental stares and towards the direction of the park near Harry’s house.

“Why do you drive so fast?” Harry asks, beginning to ramble because he's nervous again. Louis seems perfectly calm, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he moves his head from side to side thoughtfully, deliberating.

Harry wants to cry because Driving Louis is even more attractive than Football Louis. He can see how Louis’ shoulder blades are a smooth curve under his shirt as he shifts to merge lanes, and for some reason it sends a thrill though him. Harry doubts anyone else can find shoulder blades attractive, but then again, Harry is just an awkward sixteen year old who has never been kissed.

“I don’t like going slow,” Louis finally answers, a flash of another car’s headlights illuminating his face golden for a moment before it's engulfed in darkness again.

Harry’s throat goes dry again, wondering whether Louis is saying he expects more than kissing from Harry tonight.

“Does that mean—“ Harry starts to say, before Louis interrupts. “I don’t mind going slow with things that _matter_. Like, driving is just such a waste of time, you know? I could be doing other things, but I have to waste my life getting there. Some things are supposed to go slow, though,” he finishes, sending a quick smile Harry’s way as they pull into the neighborhood.

Harry reaches into his bag and pulls out the pack of gum Niall gave him, trying to subtly unwrap a piece so Louis doesn't think he's lame, and always has naturally fresh breath.

“Can I have one?” Louis asks, fighting a smile as he pulls up onto the street next to the park. Harry blushes, handing one over as Louis turns the car off. Their fingers touch, and Harry’s heart is hammering again.

“This is my favorite gum,” Louis says, sending a look Harry’s way that almost makes him feel nauseas. They both know what's happening, and why they're chewing gum, but they both pretend they don't.

The cold begins to sneak in, slowly because they aren’t opening any doors or windows. Harry moves to open his, suddenly feeling trapped and thinking they could maybe swing a bit before The Big Event, but Louis stops him with a hand to his bicep.

“It’s cold. Why don’t we just stay here?” he suggests, and Harry knows it's soon. He settles back down, Louis’ hand still gripping him and—God, he's so nervous.

Louis chews his gum slowly, studying Harry before leading into the reason they're pulled up on the side of the road under false pretenses.

“I can’t believe you’ve never kissed a boy before,” he confesses, his pointer finger trailing a slow line from Harry’s elbow to his shoulder, leaving a swirling pattern of heat over his skin. Harry shivers, not entirely sure whether it's from the cold or Louis’ finger.

“Are you cold, babe?” Louis asks, concerned. “I can turn the heater on again.”

“No, I—“ Harry pauses, realizing he's actually overheating in his hoodie because of the nerves. “I’m actually—need to take this off,” Harry breathes out, awkwardly trying to pull it off and failing to get it past his head. Louis laughs, helping free Harry with gentle fingers. He pulls it down the length of Harry’s arms once his head is out, folding it and setting it on the dashboard.

And Harry knows it isn’t sexual. He knows Louis is just helping him, because he can’t pull his hoodie over his head without failing. He knows Louis isn’t going to rip off his tight, long sleeve shirt that makes him look like a crisp apple Harry wants to sink his teeth into. But Louis pulling off an article of his clothing feels incredibly intimate, and personal, and Harry knows more of that could be in his future if the night goes well.

He hopes it goes well.

“Better?” Louis asks, not straying from his side of the car.

“A little,” Harry gulps, his breath hitching when Louis shifts, turning his body to face him.

“So,” Louis presses on, moving his hand so it grips the top of Harry’s seat. “If I kissed you right now, would you punch me?”

Harry chokes on his laugh, confused. “Why would I punch you?”

“Well, what other explanation could there be for never kissing someone? Who wouldn’t want to kiss you? The only explanation I can think of is that you hit anyone who tries,” he pauses. “Which you should, if someone’s trying something on you that you don’t want.”

Harry is unexpectedly hysterical, his nerves and the sexual tension flooding the car making things a thousand times funnier.

Louis smiles unsurely at him, his eyebrows pulling down a little. He moves his hand from the seat to Harry’s hair, playing with a ringlet as Harry keeps laughing.

He can’t stop. It's an issue.

“So, is that a no?” he asks, and oh—that makes Harry stop laughing.

“No, it’s a—I don’t know,” Harry panics suddenly, the thought of Louis lips on his overwhelming.

“You don’t know if you want to?” Louis asks slowly, one eyebrow shooting up.

“No—I… I do! But I’m just nervous because I don’t know how to do it,” Harry accidentally explains.

Louis’ fingers still in his hair. “That’s okay. It’s just something you learn,” he insists, before leaning forward.

Without thinking, Harry moves until he's backed against the car door like a puppy afraid to go to the vet. Louis stops, his face close enough that Harry can feel his breath hitting his face.

“Why did you do that?” he asks, not moving any closer, not understanding.

“I’m not used to someone’s face being so close to mine,” Harry blurts, still pressed against the door. The window is freezing against his neck, but he can’t close the distance between them. It's almost like there's a block of cement separating them.

Louis pulls back then, a decision evident in his eyes. He turns the keys still in the ignition, the heat spilling out of the vents automatically.

“Are you taking me home?” Harry asks with an embarrassingly high voice, hurt and wondering whether Niall was right about Louis all along. The thought makes him frown.

“Yes. Not because you aren’t kissing me, but because it’s obvious you aren’t ready yet, or don’t know how to say no to me. I’m not going to force you into something you don’t want or you aren’t ready for, Harry,” he mumbles, not looking at him directly.

Harry moves without thinking, pulling the keys from the ignition. “I really want to kiss you. I’m just really, really, really nervous and I’m afraid you won’t want me anymore once you realize I’m not very good at this,” he rushes out, not liking the way Louis isn't looking at him.

“Well, you don't have to worry about that. That's definitely _not_ going to happen. But are you sure that's the only reason?” Louis asks, eyes back on Harry’s face, where they belong. He moves his fingers to Harry’s neck, and his pulse races even faster. “I don’t think it’s normal to be so scared.”

Harry nods, hoping he looks brave. “Kiss me please,” he whispers, dropping the keys to the floor.

Louis licks his bottom lip, nodding as he leans in again. He goes slower, and the anticipation is going to kill Harry, probably. Unconsciously, he leans back again, the back of his head bumping into the cold glass. Louis pauses again, unsure.

“Please,” Harry whispers, hoping he doesn’t combust when Louis’ lips touch his, but realizing it's a distinct possibility.

Louis surges forward, and they're actually, honestly, truly kissing. Harry is finally getting his first kiss! Louis’ lips are soft and smooth, but they're much more open than Harry’s. Is he supposed to open his mouth more? Niall said first kisses were easy, but it doesn’t feel right.

That's all Harry can think before Louis pulls back, leaving Harry’s mouth cold and kind of wet. “Ew,” is the first brilliant word to say that pops into Harry’s mind, his rambling apparently something that hasn't been kissed out of him by his Prince.

Louis looks kind of hurt at that, but he surges back in to kiss Harry again, with his mouth still open more than Harry’s, their styles (if Harry even had one) not matching up. Louis presses his lips to him for a few more seconds, and Harry can feel the edge of a tooth against his lip. He isn’t sure whether it's purposeful, or whether he's supposed to do the same thing. Before he can do anything else, Louis is pulling away from him again, biting his bottom lip and looking disappointed.

Harry moves forward, dropping his forehead to Louis’ shoulder so he can’t look into his eyes. “I failed,” he decides, cringing internally at how painfully awkward he probably made things.

He feels Louis’ arms wrap around him moments later, though, holding him close. Harry blinks his eyes open, moving his arms around Louis’ neck because maybe that means Louis isn’t completely disgusted with him.

He keeps his head where it is, so Louis can’t see his eyes. He's worried he looks like he's going to cry in humiliation.

The angle is awkward, the space between them too great for a proper hug. Louis seems to sense it, too, because he pulls Harry into his lap so he's straddling him. Harry tightens his arms around Louis’ neck, turning his face and breathing in the smell of his freshly shampooed hair. His nose skims the prickly stubble of Louis’ jaw, and Harry doesn’t want to give up the feeling of Louis’ arms around him, even if it's just in a momentary comfort because he messed up one of his life milestones and Louis feels bad for him.

Louis rubs his hands along Harry’s back in slow circles until Harry’s breathing calms down. Then he moves his fingers to Harry’s hair, tugging lightly on his curls to get him to look at him.

Harry shakes his head, closing his eyes and burrowing further into Louis’ neck.

“Please?” Louis pleads, pressing a kiss to a spot close to Harry’s ear. Harry frowns.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, hoping Louis will understand even though the words are muffled.

“Why are you sorry?” Louis asks, moving his arms back to Harry’s waist, tightening as he realizes Harry isn’t going to make eye contact.

“Because I’m not a good kisser,” Harry whimpers.

Louis' fingers flex against his back.

“The first one’s always awkward. We can try again,” Louis reassures gently.

Harry raises his head, pausing once he can feel Louis’ cheek against his and leaning into it, not ready to show his face yet. “We can?”

“Of course. I always want to kiss you,” Louis says, and Harry can feel his jaw moving against his cheek and it makes him smile. He moves his forehead to Louis’, biting his lip as he wonders whether that means he still likes him.

“Still?” Harry asks.

“Yes,” Louis groans, and then he's leaning forward and kissing Harry for the third time. He's happy because he was worried he wouldn’t feel Louis’ lips against his ever again.

He makes sure to pay attention to the way Louis kisses him this time. His lips are closed, slotted between Harry’s in a way that feels more natural than before. He presses against him softly, so Harry pushes back with the same amount of pressure. Louis’ fingers are tight against his sides, so Harry grabs onto Louis’ hair, winding a few strands between his fingers.

Louis moans, opening his mouth a little more and then Harry feels the tip of Louis’ tongue licking along his lip. It feels like a question, so Harry opens his mouth in answer. He pushes his tongue out, too, meeting the tip of Louis’ and sending a shock of adrenaline though his system.

Louis kisses him harder, accidentally pushing him backwards so he arches over the steering wheel a little. He licks deeper into Harry’s mouth, the smooth slide of the side of his tongue like silk against Harry’s.

Harry pushes his tongue in further, too, running the tip over the ridge of Louis’ teeth. Louis moves one of his hands from Harry’s side, down down down until he's grasping Harry’s leg, his thumb pressing into the soft inner thigh Harry has never let anyone touch but himself.

He gasps, his mouth opening as he pulls away from Louis. Louis moves his hand back to Harry’s waist, apologizing over and over as he catches his breath. Louis’ touch has him half-hard, and he knows Louis can probably feel it since he's still sitting on him.

“I should probably get you home,” Louis suggests, letting go of Harry so he can climb out of his lap.

Harry thinks it over, because he really wants to kiss Louis again. But in the end, he knows his parents are probably wondering where he is, and he wants to be able to sneak his semi past them without any questions.

So he nods, glancing down at Louis’ shining lips obviously before moving. Louis notices, smiling before bringing a finger under Harry’s chin to kiss him one last time. It's quick, hardly more than a peck, but it's sweet and perfect and Harry feels like the luckiest guy in the world.

Harry plays with Louis’ fingers on the short drive back to his house, forcing Louis to make the sharp turn awkwardly and one-handed.

“Oh no, that’s my step-dad,” Harry warns, taking in the man watering the plants at an unusually late hour in his front yard.

“Do you want me to get out and meet him?” Louis asks, a flash of fear in his eyes. Harry winces, knowing Robin is actually looking forward to meeting Louis sometime because Harry doesn’t know how to shut up at the dinner table.

“Would you?” Harry asks, hoping it's an offer.

“Yeah,” Louis says distractedly, parking in front of the grass.

As soon as they make it out of the car, Robin's in front of them, extending his arm to Louis with a purpose, introducing himself.

“I’m Louis,” he responds, smiling, so Harry guesses Robin isn’t squeezing his hand off, which is always a good sign.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to the person Harry’s been talking about so much,” Robin winks. Harry isn’t sure if he likes Robin talking about him like he isn’t there.

Louis can tell, wrapping his arm around Harry’s waist and squeezing comfortingly. “I like that you talk about me.”

Robin asks Louis about his future, something Harry doesn’t like to ask about because he's afraid it won’t include him in it. Robin seems to like his responses enough, because he finally leaves them alone with another shake of Louis’ hand, asking him to come to over for dinner the next week.

“Say goodbye, Harry,” he calls over his shoulder before the door slams shut behind him.

Harry lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in, leaning further into Louis’ side.

“Does that mean he likes me?” Louis asks, hopeful.

Harry smiles, wrapping his arms around Louis’ shoulders. “Yeah. He’s not the one you need to impress, though,” he explains, motioning to the window where Anne is peeking through, not subtly at all.

“Shit. Does this mean I don’t get to kiss you goodbye?” Louis asks.

Harry pulls him behind a pillar, out of the window’s view. “She can’t stop us,” he giggles, before leaning forward onto his tiptoes and kissing Louis senseless.

By the time Louis is driving down the street, Harry has already rushed up to his room, locking the door behind himself to get rid of his revived boner while imagining the phantom warmth he can still feel on the inside of his thigh.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how this happened? Follow me on [tumblr](http://thedarkestlarrie.tumblr.com) if you would like!
> 
> Also comments make me cry in the best way :)


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